Absent Presence
by DB2020
Summary: An absent presence grows within Squall and Seifer. At the war's end rivals have been torn apart with nothing but their memories plaguing them each day and forcing them to realize what they mean to each other.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Absent Presence

Author: DB2020

Email: (see profile)

Fandom: Final Fantasy VIII

Pairing: Seifer x Squall

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Final Fantasy VIII, nor do I financially profit from any of my fanfiction.

**Warning:** Some mild action, lime only, is present between Squall and Seifer. In case you have a strict policy about age, the kiss scene between Squall and Seifer is set when they are ten and eleven, respectively. But, it's more childhood curiosity, at least for Squall, so nothing is really very sexual about it.

**Author's Note:** This isn't going to be a long story. There are three parts, or so I've planned. This is Squall's side after the war, next will be Seifer's, and then they'll finally meet for the first time since the war ended. Any grammatical or spelling mistakes were simply been overlooked. Since I'm sure any errors are minimal, please just overlook them as well. I do not believe I've made any canon errors, though I do allude to the kids being ten/eleven and all still being at the orphanage. If that's incorrect, then consider it a change in the storyline.

Part 1

A First Kiss

Squall Leonhart stood at ease, uncaring of the stern gaze upon him. For anyone else, the action of brashly cleaning his blade might have come off as an arrogant disregard for authority. His slimming black leather pants had certainly seen better days as they were caked with odd elements of dirt and monster innards. For the sake of preservation, his bomber jacket was safely stored away in the luggage he'd brought.

Cid Kramer watched with patience as Squall swiped the steely silver gunblade clean of recent carnage. The young man seemed wholly oblivious to the dried blood and odd fiend fluids that splattered more than just the weapon.

"Squall, do you know why I've called you here?" the newly reinstated Headmaster questioned with folded hands propped on his cluttered desk.

"Yes," Squall answered shortly. Once satisfied that his blade was sufficiently clean, he holstered it at his side.

"I understand your need to fight," Cid assured. "But, you're out in the field a substantial amount of time. Garden needs you here, deploying the troops, not leading them into every fight."

"I'm not a desk jockey," Squall spoke evenly.

"And I'm not asking you to be one," the older man returned.

Tucking the used rag away, clean ends folded out, the younger man pointed out, "Monsters are breaching the borders. Innocent lives are at stake."

"The war is over," Cid asserted firmly. Sometimes he wondered if Squall knew Ultimecia was dead. The boy went about killing monsters like it was the only way to defeat the sorceress.

"I know that," Squall said with a tone of defensiveness. Crossing his arms, he stared coldly at the aging man with graying brown hair.

"Well, maybe you should act like it. You're the Commander and right now your job description is different than during war." While he was loath to know what sort of reaction Squall would have if he flat out stated that being Commander was like playing a role and more political than militant, he wondered if he should explain it all.

"I will not sit around while Esthar is under attack," Squall stated with heavy resolution.

Taking a deep breath, Cid tried a different tactic. "How much downtime have you taken since post compression last April?"

Taking a moment, Squall considered the trap he was walking into. He refused to make excuses or be handled like he was still a cadet. "That question is neither here nor there Headmaster. I fail to see the relevance."

"The relevance is my own interest. It's a simple question." Earnestly, Cid waited for an answer.

Jaw clenching, Squall directed his steely eyes to Cid's slate blue ones. "Sir, I may not have years of experience, but I believe I am capable of fulfilling my duties without step by step instructions."

Professionalism slipping, Cid broke down and asked the questions on his and everyone else's minds. "Why are you closing everyone and everything out? I'm giving sound advice, and you're rejecting it before it's offered."

"As I understand, advice is given and taken at will."

Cid sat back as he felt his head throb from continually running into the wall Squall had erected. "Not when you won't even listen Squall. I'm beginning to worry about you. Rinoa says you're not sleeping, that you're on edge all the time, and experiencing nightmares that you repeatedly refuse to talk about."

"…" Squall remained silent, adamantly refusing to speak about his personal affairs. If he wanted or needed help, he'd seek it out on his own. Besides that, it was obvious Rinoa's concerns had been expressed months ago since that had been the last time they'd slept together. Cid was blindly reaching and failing to notice that his constant absence would mean no one had time to monitor him and confirm that such issues as sleep deprivation were still true.

"I figured you'd settle down after a few months, but now with this sweeping of Esthar's outskirts, you do nothing but fight."

Shifting to the side, Squall stood more on his right leg. It was an old habit that expressed his impatience. "President Loire hired SeeD. I've merely taken an interest in this contract for the sake of hurrying the process."

"Eighteen hours in the field everyday is more than an interest," the Headmaster returned.

Keeping his cool, Squall seemed as stoic and composed as ever. There was only one person who could ever stir his emotions and really rile him up. Impassively he replied, "Since I plan on going back out tomorrow and every day after, perhaps you should consider accepting my resignation."

Disturbed by these words, Cid sat straight, barely managing to suppress the urge to shoot to his feet. "Squall, you can't be serious," he said with incredulity.

Squall gave a sardonic expression. When did he ever joke?

"The cadets look up to you. You're their leader, you can't quit," Cid impressed. He was horror stricken at the thought of Squall stepping down from being Commander.

"I'll always be SeeD, but perhaps I should be leading by example, not rank." Honestly, Squall didn't give a damn about being Commander, especially not when the war was over and he was expected to sit behind a desk all day.

"I think you need to take some time off to collect yourself, a sabbatical."

"No," Squall rejected simply.

Exasperated, Cid took his glasses off and gave a gruff sigh. "At times like these, I wish Seifer were here." As the Headmaster glanced up, he did not expect to see a stricken look of unguarded alarm on Squall's face. Thinking that the brunet's feelings could only have grown more malicious towards the rival turned wartime enemy, he quickly soothed, "Seifer wasn't a bad person Squall, just misguided. I simply meant that he was the only person who could get through to you, even if it was usually done in a bloody manner."

Expressionless mask back in place, Squall brusquely excused himself. "I'll have to cut this lecture short, I have a previous engagement."

Cid felt helpless as he watched the leather clad fighter turn and leave his office. He hadn't even been able to put a chink in that icy wall, let alone breach it. He couldn't imagine when the boy had become so stubborn and willful.

Prior to his departure from Garden, when he'd first made Squall Commander, the young man had been insecure and hesitant about almost every decision that affected other people. While Cid had always hoped Squall would grow and become more confident, he hadn't wanted the boy to become just like his rival. Seifer was arrogant and stubborn to a fault, and that was something a Commander didn't need to have.

* * *

Squall strode from the Headmaster's office in hurried steps. It seemed like the moment he finally put aside his memories of Seifer, someone always made an offhanded comment to remind him.

He needed to go back out to Esthar. The only time he ever felt true relief was in the midst of battle, when his blood pounded and adrenaline pumped. During a straining fight, he could forget all about his growing obsession.

It was early afternoon in Balamb, which meant it'd be late evening in Esthar. He'd been camping near the outskirts of the city for the past four days and his body felt as though he should be retiring for the night despite the warm rays of sunshine that filtered in all over the quad he stalked through.

Returning to his quarters, he decided to take a shower before heading out to the train's platform. It was little over an hour's ride to Fisherman's Horizon and convenient to then take the now operable train to Tarners Plate, which wasn't such a long trek to the city's border.

Grimy and mud caked clothes strewn haphazardly on the floor, he was under the shower's spray not five minutes after leaving Cid high and dry. The warm water was soothing to his overworked muscles.

He had been out fighting a lot, enough to lose weight from the physical strain and meager portions of food at night. If he were lucky, he'd be able to leave before anyone noticed he'd been there.

"Squall?" called a familiar voice from outside the bathroom door.

Grimacing at his luck, thinking he may have jinxed it, he replied, "I'll be out in a minute."

"Don't mind me, take your time," Rinoa returned. "You want me to unpack your stuff for you?"

Sighing, Squall felt guilt wash over him. "No, I'm not staying."

There was a long pause before the young sorceress answered. "Oh," she said, her voice not entirely void of disappointment, but just enough to inform Squall that she was trying to mask her feelings.

Silently, Squall berated himself for being such an asshole to her. Rinoa was nothing but sweet, and he couldn't find the decency in himself to treat her any better than the friends he ignored.

Pushing her luck, Rinoa leaned against the doorframe and asked, "Want me to make you some lunch before you go?"

Gritting his teeth, Squall forced himself to give his girlfriend that much. "Sure," he replied.

Washing up, Squall took an extra few moments to simply let the water ease his tight muscles. Perhaps he shouldn't have stopped off at the Training Center to pass the time waiting for Cid to finish up with a meeting.

With all his clothes in the duffel bag he'd tossed on the couch when he first arrived that morning, Squall unabashedly walked out with a towel about his waist to scrounge through his messily packed bag. Most of his clothes were garments designed for battle, all leather and tough denim.

"I bought you a few things the last time I came to visit," Rinoa informed as she strode toward him, eyes raking over his well-toned form. "I put them in the closet."

With a nod, Squall decided his appreciation would be best showed by not refusing to wear the clothes. It wasn't so much that his battle clothes were inappropriate, but most of it was well worn and ragged.

Squall almost smiled at the unworn items he found filling the closet. It wasn't until he reminded himself that Rinoa had probably been buying him stuff and visiting only to find him absent for months now. The closet must have slowly filled up, each visit the raven-haired woman made from Timber bringing nothing but disappointment.

Selecting at random a pair of boot cut jeans and black dress shirt, he closed the sliding doors and tossed the garments on his rarely used bed. His amusement returned when he found his dresser drawers contained an array of undergarments of socks.

Lips forming a small smile, he quickly dressed and left the bedroom. He found Rinoa in the small kitchen, spreading mustard on a turkey sandwich. He was truly endeared by her kind efforts.

Coming up behind the petit young woman, he wrapped his arms around her frame. "Thank you," he said with a gentle kiss to her temple.

For a brief moment, Rinoa nearly caved into the urge to turn about and sob her worries away into the Commander's chest. She was worried about their relationship, about his health, about her family, about Timber's struggling independent government, and so many other issues in her life.

"I missed you," she murmured, managing to not fall into hysteric tears.

"I'm sorry that I've been gone so often. Once Esthar is safe, things will change."

"Squall, please don't make promises like that," she said in return. Pulling away from his warm hold, a hold that she desperately wanted to wallow in for the rest of her life, she turned to gaze into his guarded eyes. His eyes were so beautiful, even with the icy chill they sent up her back.

"Like what?" Squall questioned lightly.

"I don't need things to change. I don't like that I hardly see you now, but I don't want you to change if it's not what you want."

Giving a frown, the brunet said, "I'm not sure what you mean."

"If you want to spend your time doing grunt work all day, then that's fine with me. Instead of coming here and visiting everyone, I'll start coming out to the middle of the desert to stay with you."

"That's sweet," Squall commented, not sure what else he should say.

"Well," Rinoa said with a more cheerful tone, "Your sandwich is almost done, I'll bring it out to you. You want a drink with it?"

"Water," the brunet answered before leaving the kitchen.

* * *

The patterned sound of the train's wheels on the track was lulling. Similar to Selphie, Squall quite enjoyed to view of passing scenery, however he was far from being quite so enthused about it or willing to stand up the entire time.

Sitting in a private compartment, the Commander stared out at the ocean. With the window open no more than an inch, the salty air whipped in a fresh breeze on his face. He was relaxed in a half strewn manner in the booth near the window.

His body was tired. It was becoming increasingly enticing to lie down on the soft bed at the other end of the compartment, but he chose to stare and reflect. At least when his mind drifted in a daydreaming manner, he had some control over his thoughts. During sleep, he dreamed quite often and never about anything he wanted to.

He mainly dreamed about Seifer. And, his dreams lead to continual thoughts during his wakeful hours of the day. Thinking about Seifer was also something he didn't want to be doing.

Seifer was gone from his life, somewhere in the world doing something Squall knew nothing about.

Sinking further into the cushions, Squall stared blankly as his mind wandered.

Since he first arrived at the orphanage, Seifer had never given him a moment of peace. Considering he couldn't remember a life prior to the seaside children's home, his entire life included having Seifer in it.

They weren't close like bosom buddies, but it was still something he'd grown so used to that nothing felt right anymore. The war had created a cold place in his heart without the constant annoyance of the arrogant blond nearby. Worse yet, he'd spent every day in turmoil over the possibility of having to fight Seifer to the death.

He never wanted to be enemies, but because of his feelings on the matter, he felt ashamed to be the Commander. What sort of leader wished the enemy a safe ending?

What if he'd taken the time to speak with Seifer after their mission in Dollet? The older boy had wanted to talk to him, needing to talk with someone so badly about some sort of romantic dream that he'd been approached as a last resort.

What if he could have stopped Seifer from becoming a knight? The war wouldn't have been avoided, but it certainly would have been ended sooner. If Seifer had been leader, things would have turned out much differently. If Seifer had remained with Garden, then they might have experienced a change in their rivalry. In a truce for a greater good, he probably would have wound up fighting along side his rival.

Shaking his head, Squall tried to push aside his thoughts. Perhaps this was Seifer's ultimate form of irritation, constantly hounding him with ghost memories.

As the sun made its descent, an orange orb that appeared oddly large just above the watery horizon, Squall felt his breathing slow. He might just fall asleep for a little while. He had about an hour to go, enough time for a nap.

As an absent hand reached up to grasp his Griever emblem, tugging the chain a bit. He felt empty and vacant of all the emotions he should be feeling.

He should feel love for Rinoa, warmth for his friends, relief that the war was over, respect for Cid, happiness for the life he now lead, and so many other emotions.

He felt none of that. Instead, he felt fake guilt and loneliness. He wanted to feel guilty, but he really didn't. He was putting Rinoa through quite a bit of turmoil, not really giving their relationship any effort, but in the end he couldn't scrounge up enough will power to even give it more than a couple minutes thought.

Reason and logic were slowly waning each time he tried to figure out why he felt so alone and cold. Everyone suddenly came back into his life after leaving, and he felt more abandoned than the day Sis had left.

Why?

A very small part of him had begun to attribute it the fact that the one person who he'd always counted on to remain in his life had also left. He'd doubted everyone except for one man, and in the end his trust was betrayed.

Squall gave a wry scoff.

His trust wasn't betrayed. Seifer never knew how he felt, never understood that he was grateful that their rivalry kept them together. All he needed was to know that Seifer was nearby, and that was enough. He didn't need to be friends with the older boy, rivals was good enough.

But Seifer had left, just like everyone else. In that moment when he stared at the crimson cross of Hyne on the blond's retreating back, he felt the likes of dark abandonment that he'd never known before.

Why had Seifer left? Why?

"Why didn't he ask me to come with him?" Squall questioned aloud to the empty compartment, his voice barely more than a whisper.

* * *

When Squall was ten years old, he was a frail looking boy with an overall frame that was indicative of someone at least a year younger. Despite never vocalizing his jealousy over how tall Irvine and Seifer were, Matron constantly assured that he was a late bloomer and would grow up big and strong.

At a time when his rivalry with Seifer was little more than the blond becoming upset with him on every occasion, he sat quietly as he stared out the window. A storm raged near the mainland. Safely within the orphanage, he remained in his room while the others watched a movie downstairs. It was movie night and everyone was always glued to the television. Matron allotted him the liberty of choice, his preference always being to take a couple hours of solitude.

Ready for bed, he lounged in a pair of shorts and t-shirt that was a couple sizes too big for him. Counting the seconds between light and sound was almost a game to him. A year ago he'd been frightened of storms, but after forcing himself to watch each one since then, he'd outgrown what Seifer had called being a baby.

At a particularly loud clap of thunder, he was taken by surprise and jerked in place. Frowning, he mumbled that he was being stupid. He'd seen the blinding flash that preceded it, so he should have been ready.

Once again startled, the young boy jumped in place at the knocking at his door. Scowling over his reaction, he stood up to answer it. He had a sneaker in place as a door jam since no one ever waited for him to say it was all right to enter.

As the old wooden door creaked open, grey-blue eyes were surprised to find Seifer standing in the dark hall outside. Standing a good twelve inches taller than himself, the blond wore baggy jeans and a yellow hoodie. It would seem he was the only one ready for bed, even though it was almost nine o'clock.

"Can I come in?" the older boy questioned, pushing his way past the little runt without waiting for an answer.

"You need to ask first," Squall protested, quickly maneuvering to stand in front of the blond.

"I did," Seifer lilted as he loomed over the small brunet.

Huffing indignantly, Squall corrected, "I meant wait for me to say that it's okay."

"You should say what you mean Squally-boy," the blond chastised mockingly. Roughly, he ruffled the boy's thick auburn hair, tousling long locks about. "You should get a haircut, you look like a girl."

"I do not!" Squall yelled in return.

"Quiet," Seifer hissed. "Matron'll hear ya and then we'll both get in trouble."

"Why d'you come?" the brunet asked as he angrily dodged the older boy's attempt at messing with his hair again.

"It's storming," Seifer pointed out as he walked further in and sat on Squall's bed. It was plain to any eye that the pale boy had been sitting there.

"I was sitting there," Squall protested as he closed the door, defeated into acceptance of the blond bully in his room.

"Now I'm here," Seifer jibed. "Here," he said as he pat his lap like he were calling a dog. "You can sit in my lap."

Nose wrinkling in distasted, Squall scowled at the annoying boy. "I wanna be alone," he stated.

"And I wanna be with you, so you lose," Seifer said with a note of finality.

Resigned to either calling Matron and consequently be dragged to watch the movie with everyone else or dealing with Seifer's presence, Squall trudged towards his bed. Crawling atop it, he moved closer until he was placed in the corner at the head of the bed. Seifer was in front of him, blocking his view of the window. However, he could still hear the storm and see the lightening as it illuminated his room.

For a long while they sat in silence. Nothing but the harsh rain that occasionally chinked against the windowpane and the claps of thunder broke the quiet.

"Have you ever kissed someone?" Seifer asked as he continued to stare out the window.

Stirring from his lost study of the stitching in his quilt, Squall looked up with an expression of shock. His usually pale cheeks were tinged red. "No," he declared defensively.

"Not even Sis?" Seifer pressed in accusation.

"No," Squall mumbled in dejection, suddenly reminded of just how real his sister's presence had been. The affirmation that she wasn't some figment of his imagination cut through him with the biting reality that she was gone.

Dropping the topic as quickly as he'd brought it up, Seifer turned back to the window.

Settling down, Squall crawled under his blankets and turned his back to the older boy. Now that he was thoroughly depressed and would probably remain so for the rest of the night, he sulked while listening to the storm.

"Hey," Seifer said with a shaking nudge to the small lump beneath the navy blue quilt. "Do you wanna try it?"

Not responding as quickly as most would have, Squall eventually questioned, "Try what?"

"Kissing," Seifer answered as if it were obvious.

"No, I don't know how," the younger boy stated flatly, never venturing to turn and regard the person he spoke to.

"Me neither, that's why you gotta practice," Seifer explained, his tone oddly free of its usual annoyed edge.

Sitting up, Squall blinked in thought. "I thought you're supposed to kiss girls," he muttered in confusion.

Cringing, Seifer pulled a face of disgust. "Yuck," he intoned to emphasize his dislike of the idea. "I don't wanna catch cooties."

"Don't be stupid," Squall said with a small laugh at the blond's antics.

Seifer gave a smile, shifting to face the brunet more. "Well it's true."

"Matron said cooties weren't real, that girls aren't any different from boys except for how they look."

"You mean boys have a penis," Seifer stated with a smirk of victory, like saying the word penis without blushing made him a winner in some odd respect.

Frowning, Squall didn't reply.

"You have to do it some day, everyone does," Seifer stated soundly. "We should practice."

"You should ask Selphie or Quisty, they're girls," Squall returned. Regardless of his words of refusal, his curiosity was definitely peeked at the idea.

"But you look like a girl and I don't wanna ask them."

"I don't look like a girl," Squall defended angrily.

"Yes, you do," Seifer refuted.

"No, I don't," Squall shot back.

"You do."

"I don't!" the brunet half shouted, forgetting himself as Seifer managed to anger him enough.

"Shhh!" Seifer hissed as he clamped a hand over Squall's mouth. "We'll get in trouble."

"Stop calling me a girl," Squall continued in his angry tirade, struggling free of the stronger boy's grip.

"I didn't call you one," Seifer taunted in his usual manner of being technical about everything. "I said you look like one."

Blushing before he even said it, Squall imitated the older boy and said, "I have a penis. I don't look like a girl."

Green-blue eyes stared for a long moment, hands clamped on the narrow shoulders of the smaller boy. Staring for a long moment, he eventually laughed at Squall.

Squall knew he must have looked nervous and uncomfortably embarrassed after saying those words, hence Seifer's amusement. Scowling at the blond, Squall struggled to tear free completely. Oblivious to the bright flash of light, he barely managed to stifle his cry of terror at the immediately following crack of thunder. It was the loudest yet.

"Aww, is little Squally still afraid of a little lightening?" Seifer jibed in a mock baby voice.

"No," Squall refuted angrily. How was he supposed to ignore Seifer and not get angry like Matron said he should? The blond always knew just what to say to hurt his feelings and make him upset.

"I won't tell anyone if you practice with me," Seifer proposed. "If you don't let me, then I'll go down there right now and say that you're crying and calling for your mommy."

"I hate you," Squall bit out, very much on the verge of tears in his overwhelming annoyance with the blond.

With a narrowed glare of anger, Seifer shoved the smaller boy away. "I hate you too," he stated before turning away and staring out the window again. It was a mystery to Squall why the blond didn't storm out.

After another ten minutes of silence, Seifer finally turned back around and said, "Stick your tongue out."

Sulking once more with his back turned, Squall rolled over to glare up at the older boy. "Why?"

"Because I wanna try the kiss," Seifer explained.

Squall rolled his eyes, for once feeling like he knew something the older boy didn't. "Kisses are like this," he said before puckering his lips slightly in demonstration.

Smiling arrogantly, Seifer took on his usual condescending air. He corrected, "Not the real ones. Me and Irvine saw these books at the store that had pictures and everything. You're supposed to use your tongue if you wanna make it good."

Frowning at once again being on the shallow end of the knowledge pool, Squall questioned, "What's supposed to happen when you do it?" His streak of childhood curiosity had always been more than normal. Most of the scarce words he spoke were in question of something, which often angered their schoolteacher, especially when he hardly ever volunteered to give any answers.

"It feels really good," Seifer said knowingly.

Anger momentarily forgotten, the brunet sat up and questioned, "It does?"

"Yeah," Seifer assured as if he were an expert. "It doesn't hurt or nothing, just makes you feel really good."

Seeming to process the blond's words as fact, Squall considered his options. With nothing to lose but his pride if he refused, it was starting to seem like a good idea. Besides, he was becoming extremely curious, and if it didn't hurt then there was nothing to be afraid of.

Sticking the tip of his tongue out, Squall gazed at Seifer expectantly.

"Not like that," Seifer huffed in exaggerated exasperation. "Like this," he stated. Sticking his tongue out all the way and keeping his mouth open, he demonstrated what he meant.

Mimicking Seifer, Squall opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out further. He was almost expecting the blond to tell him to say, 'Ahh.'

"Better," Seifer admonished. "You ready?"

Moving from his correct position, Squall quickly asked, "For what?"

"For the kiss stupid," Seifer answered.

"Oh," the younger mumbled. Resuming his open mouthed position, he waited for whatever came next. The fact that he previously assumed kissing was something like touching lips together gave him a feeling of assurance when Seifer leaned in.

Before Seifer could begin, he stopped and stated, "Don't bite me or nothing. I'm gonna put my tongue in your mouth, okay?"

"Why?" Squall asked in stiffening alarm.

"Cause that's how it's done, that's why," Seifer stated. "Come on, it doesn't hurt."

"How do you know?" Squall asked with uncertainty, not understanding why Seifer needed to put anything in his mouth for a kiss.

"Because I've seen it," Seifer said.

Staring sternly into the older boy's darkened eyes, the stark color only evident when lightening came, Squall warily said, "Promise it won't hurt?" It wasn't exactly a question.

"I promise."

Now apprehensive, trusting Seifer at the same time he doubted the boy, he opened his mouth again, a little wider than before. Despite watching Seifer lean in close and knowing what was going to happen, it was just like the thunder. Almost jumping out of his skin, he stayed in place only because Seifer's hands gripped his shoulders.

Unsure what to do, Squall remained frozen in place with Seifer's tongue in his mouth. The older boy seemed to be licking him, the wet appendage moving about messily. After a rather awkward couple of minutes, Squall realized he kept trying to hold his breath. Pulling away, he panted for air.

"You're supposed to do the same to me," Seifer chastised, licking his slick lips. "Just copy what I do, okay?"

Brows drawn together, Squall nodded numbly. It was kind of gross to have someone's tongue in his mouth all wet and stuff, but he wouldn't be the first to admit it. He was better prepared for it when Seifer leaned in again. He almost forgot what he was supposed to be doing. It didn't seem possible for Seifer's tongue to be in his mouth when his tongue was in Seifer's. Still, he tried.

After an odd moment, Squall began to find the weird feeling of their tongues touching sort of enjoyable. At least, he was intrigued by it, wondering what he was supposed to do to make it feel really good.

As their tongues began to find a clumsy rhythm of twining together, their lips were subsequently brought together as well. With wet smacking sounds, their lips meshed instinctively. They were both giving off muffled pants, neither exactly wanting to break apart but not having a very sound way of breathing.

Squall felt a warm heat creep up his back. At the seeking feel of Seifer's hand slipping under his shirt, the back of his neck heated up with a heavy wave of something he couldn't place.

It wasn't until Seifer began to move around more, pushing him down to the bed and laying on top of him, that he began to feel a sense of the forbidden, like what they were doing was naughty.

Parting for air, Seifer grinned in satisfaction. "It feels good, doesn't it?" he questioned as he pushed Squall's shirt up.

"I don't know," Squall admitted, "It feels weird, like it makes everything become hot."

"It's supposed to make this place feel the best," Seifer said as he reached down and pat the younger boy's crotch.

"Don't touch me there," Squall said as he skittishly tried to move and knock Seifer's hand away.

"Fine, let's just practice some more," the blond compromised as he took his hand away.

Squall wasn't sure if he was depriving himself of too much oxygen, dangerously becoming a bit numb to reality. His mind felt sluggish, like on the days when he never felt entirely awake and went through the day like he was still sleeping.

Chest heaving for air, Squall gulped it in during their next break. Seifer tore his shirt off, pulling it above his head. It was getting a bit too hot for it anyway.

"Move your legs," Seifer ordered, gripping the lean thighs and pushing the knees apart.

"You're heavy," Squall mumbled as the blond draped atop him once more, settled between his legs.

Without response, the blond resumed their kiss. Touching hands moved all over his exposed body, touching his chest mostly. It wasn't until he felt the pinching of his nipple that he realized what Seifer had been trying to do by massaging him there.

He couldn't exactly understand why it felt good, but it did. "Seifer," he called out softly. He winced as the older boy tweaked him a little too hard. "Ow," he exclaimed.

"Sorry," Seifer muttered, ceasing his ministrations on the one nipple and moving to the other.

Though practice usually made perfect, Squall wondered if anyone could kiss without making a mess. Saliva dribbled down his chin, but every time he tried to wipe it away, Seifer stopped him.

"It's supposed to be messy," Seifer assured when the brunet stubbornly wiped his mouth on the discarded shirt.

"It is?" Squall questioned hesitantly. Staring avidly at the older boy, he reached out and swiped at the slick saliva at Seifer's lips with his thumb.

"That's what the book said. It said that sex is always messy."

Blushing furiously, Squall's eyes widened. "Sex?" he murmured incredulously. "We can't have sex… we'd get in so much trouble."

"Relax, we're just kissing right now."

"I know that," Squall stated defiantly.

"If you touch me too, then we're making out," Seifer suggested as if the new term for their actions was something proud to achieve.

Frowning, Squall cast a furtive glance to his door. "Matron'll be checking in soon. Won't we get in trouble for it?"

"No, everyone does it."

Debating his options, Squall decided that it was okay. Seifer hadn't lied to him about it feeling good, so why should he doubt the more knowledgeable boy now?

Reaching out, he hesitantly massaged over the thick material of Seifer's brightly colored sweatshirt. "Like this?"

Sighing exaggeratedly, Seifer shook his head. Shrugging out of his hoodie, he continued to pull his white t-shirt off as well. Once he was bare-chested, he grabbed one of Squall's bony wrists and placed the hand against his chest. "You gotta grope it, like squeeze and rub."

"Like a massage?" Squall questioned.

"Kind of," the blond said with a nod. "But, we gotta be kissing at the same time." Giving Squall's lips a quick peck, he pushed the brunet back down.

As Squall opened his mouth and swirled his tongue around Seifer's, he tried to do everything at once. He felt like he was patting his head and rubbing his stomach at the same time, not quite able to multitask without make a conscious effort.

Mimicking the blond's actions on his chest, Squall played with Seifer's nipples. He found they became hard and stood out after he touched them. It was kind of fun, but he made sure not to pinch too hard.

"That's it," Seifer said as he gave off an odd sort of noise, pressing down against the Squall's hips a bit.

Between the continued storm and the fact that Squall was a bit lost in the moment, the creaking door didn't register as a noise apart from the thunder and the noises they made every time they felt something good.

It wasn't until the slightly shrill cry of Matron that Squall was suddenly pulled from the thick atmosphere between him and Seifer.

"What do you think you boys are doing?" Edea Kramer cried in disbelief. "Zell, wait in the hall."

"I told you they were making babies!" Zell announced loudly, trotting away quickly at the harsh glare from Seifer.

"Making babies," Edea muttered in half amusement and half horror.

"Seifer Almasy, just what are you doing in Squall's room?"

"We were just kissing," Seifer defended, still wedged between Squall's legs.

"Everyone does it," Squall piped in, taking Seifer's words and using them for both their defense.

"Ten year old boys do not go around kissing Squall Leonhart, you should know better," Matron chastised sternly. "And where are your shirts for Hyne's sake?"

Smirking for a proud moment, Seifer explained, "We took them off so we could make out."

"Make out?" the dark haired woman muttered in disbelief. "Seifer, you will tell me where you learned that term or so help me, I'll take you across my knee and spank you 'till you can't sit."

"That's not fair!" Seifer cried in anger. "We were just kissing a little."

"A little? So help me Seifer, but when I walked in here, you were not kissing just a little. Do not lie to me."

Falling silent, Squall watched the narrowed gaze of amber eyes light up in the bright flash of lightening. He was filled with trepidation and fear of punishment. Unintentionally sidling closer to the older boy, he listened. It was comforting how Seifer never backed down, it sort of made him feel safe.

"You said that kissing wasn't disgusting the last time Zell and Irvine pretended to throw up when we watched that movie last week. You said that it was sweet because it meant you loved someone." Glaring in his attempt to defend what he'd done, which was obviously coerce Squall into doing something naughty, he slung an arm around the small brunet. "We were doing it because we love each other."

In shock, Squall cast a glance up at Seifer. Now he was really confused.

* * *

Shivering with cold, Squall huddled into himself and wished for the warmth of body heat that had been given by Seifer's arms.

Eyes snapping open suddenly, Squall shot up from his awkward placing in the small booth. At his right shoulder, his shirt was damp. Rain was making its way in through the small crack of the window. Outside, heavy clouds marred every inch of sky. Distantly, he could see lightening.

Closing the window, Squall frowned in thought. Raising a hand to his lips, he reflected on his dream. He hadn't remembered that night. All his memories weren't in order or restored, not when he still had Shiva junctioned.

He wasn't sure which disturbed him more, the dream of an actual event or the way it made him feel all these years later. His first kiss at ten years old was from his rival. Not only that, but it had turned into much more than a kiss.

With a slight blush, Squall couldn't stop himself before he made the comparison to his intimate moments with Rinoa. He'd never kissed anyone like that. Assuming no more make out sessions occurred after that stormy night eight years ago, Squall felt a slight shame in having never experienced anything quite so passionate… and at the time he hadn't even understood what was going on.

Should he feel morbidly embarrassed that his first kiss was with another man? Granted, Seifer hadn't been a man back then, but the fact remained that it wasn't just some peck on the cheek. What if Zell hadn't found them, or not gone running to Matron?

Blinking in remembrance, Squall found his laughter was unstoppable. Covering his mouth, he laughed at the entire catastrophe that ensued. The phrase, 'Seifer and Squall are making babies' kept repeating in his head.

TBC... please review if you liked it>


	2. Chapter 2

Part II

Lovesick

With an angry shake of his fist, Seifer Almasy tossed his fishing pole off the pier and into the gently swaying waves below. "Fucking fish!" he cursed. Settling down on the wooden planks, he let the warm sun assuage his annoyance.

"That's the way, ya know? Charm the fish like that and we'll have a feast." Raijin commented sarcastically as he patiently sat with his line in the water.

"Shove it," the former knight grunted with annoyance. Lying back, he tried to relax, though his legs hanging over the edge made him slightly uncomfortable. His tanned skin was from years of constantly being in the sun, soaking up the rays like a source of energy. Throwing an arm over his eyes, he shielded them from the blindingly bright orb high in the sky. With a long pair of green khaki shorts and white beater top, he felt the rays beat down on his arms and lower legs. Sadly, the sun was hardly the answer to his problems.

"RAGE," Fujin bit out from further down, on Raijin's other side.

"Not quite," Seifer muttered darkly, images of his affliction flashing before his eyes. It wasn't rage, though given enough time to simmer with his emotions bottled up it might just become that. For now, it was annoyance and confusion over his growing obsession and constant thoughts of a certain fighter with steely blue eyes and gently tousled hair.

"It's been eight months Seif, what's going on? Are you trippin' over the knight thing still? It's normal, ya know? At least I think, ya know?" the burly quarterstaff user assured. Giving up on catching a fish any time soon, he wedged his pole between a convenient gap in the planks.

"For the last time," Seifer growled. "I am not hung up on that. Hyne, that woman was a bitch who couldn't even speak properly inside my head. It's not my fault I was in the wrong place at the wrong time." It was true enough that he suffered very little after the war, which did trouble him in some ways. His guilt was nearly non-existent, despite the innocent lives taken by his hands both directly and indirectly. For all his self proclaimed resolve for never regretting the choices he made, he hadn't thought that one day he'd back his words up.

"Well, at least she wasn't bad lookin' or nothin', ya know?" Raijin said with a half-hearted shrug, trying to make light of the situation when their posse' leader seemed so touchy about everything.

With a disrupting splash, Raijin was sent off the dock, an angry Fujin towering over the edge of the raven-haired man's place. "MORON," she called as Raijin struggled to stay afloat.

"I just meant when compared to like Adel, ya know?" Raijin defended as he tread towards the dock and grappled to get a good enough grip to levy himself up.

"I'm calling it guys, I'll see you tomorrow," Seifer announced as he clambered to his feet. "While you're in there Raij, mind getting my pole?"

Raijin, who was halfway on the dock, glanced up to stare at the retreating back of the ex-knight. Aside from failing to keep his closest friend happy for more than a few hours, he was now wet.

"SEARCH," Fujin ordered with a swift stomp to the large man's hands, causing Raijin to fall back in. Her single red eye cast a sorrowful glance towards the retreating back of their blond leader. There just didn't seem to be much either she or Raijin could do for him anymore, and he was being more stubborn and tightlipped than Leonhart about whatever was ailing him.

Seifer managed to express a small bit of appreciation for his friend's antics, offering no more than a quick wave, not even turning to watch.

The blond fighter's feet carried him along the steady strip of worn planks, a loose board jostling under his sneaker's footfalls every so often. He wasn't even sure where he wanted to go, just that he felt like being alone.

When he reached what was considered the busiest part of town, which simply meant that that there were a few out-of-towners mulling around, he stopped and thought about where he was going. There was very little to do in Fisherman's Horizon, but he found that it was just the place for him to spend time in reflection. Besides, with the crackpot mayor preaching about peace and forgiveness, he had little to worry about as far as angry mobs went.

It was roughly between noon and one o'clock, judging from the sun, and too early for him to drink himself into oblivion. Grumbling at the inconvenience a time restriction on alcohol was, he stalked towards Frank's Diner, the only place that served decent food. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets, his mood darker over the injustice of alcohol prohibition. If the mayor could get high before five o'clock, then the bar should be open before then as well.

With the chime of the doorbells, Seifer entered the small diner. He gave an automatic wave to the grizzly looking man behind the counter. "Frank," he greeted tersely, it was the warmest greeting he was in the mood for giving.

"Ahh, Seifer," the old man cheered with a returned wave. "I had a feeling you'd show up today. What can I get you?"

"The usual, and I'll pick it up at the counter, no daughter today," the blond answered before selecting his usual seat in the corner booth. Despite having far more room than someone of his broad frame required, he slouched and propped his arms around the curving back of the cushioned seat.

"Mandy's been looking forward to seeing you all day after I said you'd probably show up," Frank countered before disappearing into the kitchen.

Jade green eyes scanned the diner, finding two other customers present. He wasn't sure they were even customers, rather two old men playing chess while extorting the air conditioning of the small restaurant.

It was the broken calm that reminded the former knight why he stopped eating out so often.

"Seifer!" came the slightly shrill cry, which would have been chipper if the girl would stop trying to make her voice sound two octaves higher than it was meant to go.

Head back and eyes closed, Seifer lifted his head a bit before smacking it back down and repeating. "Mandy," he muttered, trying to hide at least a little of his distain.

Mandy was Frank's daughter, a young woman of twenty-four who was completely enamored with Seifer. Given that she refused to ever leave FH, her father seemed to encourage her infatuation since the handsome blond was prime meat in the small, middle of nowhere town.

"I've killed hundreds of people, women and children alike," Seifer stated evenly as the petit woman slid in beside him. Every time he saw her, he tried to discourage her by informing her of his past discrepancies, which for anyone else would warrant an angry slap and maybe a few sharp stones chucked his way.

Thinking it was part of the game they played all the time, the auburn haired woman giggled fanatically as she leaned into the man's arms. Daring to place a quick kiss on his cheek, she replied, "I told Daddy to make your omelet extra special."

Seifer wondered, as he always did, if ignoring her would do any good. However, when her hand began to stroke his chest, he sat up and pointedly retracted his arm from behind her form.

"So, do you like omelets because of the protein?" Mandy questioned, finding the constant ordering of the dish to be fascinating. Feeling the hardened muscles of the ex-knight's bicep she gave off a round of giggles. "All that protein is good for something," she stated lewdly.

Suppressing the urge to bluntly inform the young woman that she was mentally twenty years too young for his tastes, he opted to remain silent. It was a sad fact that he hadn't been with a woman since his summer fling with Rinoa Heartilly. He was sorely missing the vibrant political activist at that point. Before he lost all interest in the female gender, he needed to find some sexy number visiting or passing through. Mandy wasn't going to make the cut even after eight months of celibacy and a dangerous amount of rum.

"Mandy," the blond said with a gruff sigh, detaching his arm once more as fondling hands seemed unable to keep away. "I'm not interested in you, we've been through this already."

Frowning at the blunt words, the short woman seemed to pick up on the heavy atmosphere surrounding the handsome man. "I can tell when you're in a foul mood. I let you get out of promising me a date, but just for today."

Looking heavenward, Seifer replied, "That's all I ask."

"Well, I'm off to shop for a new dress. Jean's having her birthday party tomorrow and I want to look nice. Maybe I'll come by your place in the morning and show it off," she suggested with a grope of the ex-knight's muscular thigh. With another round of giggles, she dashed from her place and left with a clanging ring of the door after it was slammed shut a bit harshly.

Wondering where the nearest noose was, Seifer grit his teeth and tried to instill some sense of calm. Now he couldn't get drunk later, since he needed to be up and out of sight early tomorrow. If he had any sense of his former self, he'd unleash Hyperion on her. But, he found he didn't have the heart when she came off as so pathetic and desperate.

While any normal father would beat their daughter's suitor away with a stick, Frank found the odd exchanges between Mandy and Seifer didn't arouse alarm. Even at such an age as Mandy was, she'd been isolated her whole life and had yet to understand that a simple crush didn't mean her feelings would be requited or that she'd marry the guy.

"I find it hard to believe you're the lad who caused all that ruckus," the older man said as he walked close and set the single plate and tall glass of ice water down before the blond boy.

"Ruckus?" Seifer questioned with a scoff. "It was more than a ruckus old timer, and I think you should be concerned about that daughter of yours. Next time she grabs my groin, I'm grabbing her breast."

Laughing heartily at the former knight's words, Frank reached around and untied his greasy white apron. Balling the garment, he sat down and kept it in his lap. "You're a good kid," he said as his laughter trailed off to light chuckling.

Seifer shook his head, wondering if remaining in the town too long would make his thought process work backwards too. "If you locals don't stop breeding amongst yourselves, you're going to become stark raving mad."

"Your sense of humor is amusing," Frank assured. "You are quite the paradox Seifer Almasy. I was scared stiff the first day you walked in here, but now I can hardly imagine you hurting a fly."

"That's cause I bury the bodies well, you'd never know just how many townies I've knocked off," the blond retorted before sampling his omelet. With mushrooms and some weird homemade salsa spread inside, it was the best damn thing he'd ever eaten.

"She'll get over you, just give her time."

"And what do you propose I do in the meantime? Should I just turn over in bed when she shows up in the middle of the night and tries to rape me?"

Chuckling some more, Frank clapped a hand to a broad shoulder. "Always with the sarcasm. You city folks have quick tongues."

"I'm not from the city," Seifer commented, not bothering to correct the man since he didn't care to divulge the details of his past.

"Anyone who isn't from around these parts is from the city," Frank assured. With a population of less than fifty, FH wasn't even a town.

Seifer grunted in response, his mouth too full to respond.

"So, what ails you today? You've got a dark aura."

Taking a swig of his water, he ended it with a resounding crunch of ice. Staying hydrated was always important, especially in FH. The town was in the middle of a vast ocean channel. There was more sun shining down all day than any place else in the world. Dawn and dusk seemed ages apart and lasted just as long.

Finding that Frank was oddly compelling, Seifer laid out his troubles. Better to tell a stranger than someone who'd hark at his door incessantly with concern. "I've been doing a lot of thinking, too much perhaps," he stated vaguely.

"Then, perhaps your time of repentance is over," the fifty-five year old cook replied solemnly.

"I haven't been repenting," Seifer growled. "If I were sorry for what I did, I'd be visiting every town looking for lost orphans like Matron."

"Who?"

Shaking his head at the slip, Seifer corrected, "Edea Kramer, the beacon of goodwill with the orphanage in Centra."

Nodding in understanding, Frank hummed his knowledge of distant matters. News didn't travel fast in these parts. With the average age being fifty, not many of the retired folk were interested in the fast paced world outside.

"So you've spent half a year helping out with repairs around here, doing everything from changing the diapers of Yuna's baby girl to giving Johnny fishing lessons, and for what?" Frank questioned.

"Because I'm bored," Seifer answered lamely. He made a mental note to stop doing good deeds, since it was obviously killing his reputation. He wondered if a demonstration of the fact that he couldn't fish for shit would discredit his attempts at teaching Johnny. Truthfully, he'd only done it for his own safety, the little brat swinging the damn pole and loose line every which way, such that no one was off the hook for a mile radius.

Laughing once more, Frank clapped the ex-knight's shoulder again. "You're still as lost as the day you first came here. You're not meant to hang around a tired old place like this. Your eyes are restless and getting more desperate looking each day."

Lips forming a thin line, Seifer stared at his partly eaten omelet. While he certainly felt restless, it was more for the fact that he couldn't shake his thoughts of Squall. Why the hell should Squally-boy be on his mind?

"What you're looking for isn't here," Frank carried on soundly, his age bringing more than gray hairs. "I remember the last war. I've seen the lost soldiers coming round here thinking that they needed to settle down and find some quiet to sooth their souls. They're all gone, 'cause after a while it only makes things worse."

"My soul doesn't need soothing, it needs alcohol," Seifer commented as he forced himself to finish his food.

"What it needs, is what was left behind," Frank said cryptically.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Seifer grumbled out around his mouthful, hardly caring how uncouth he seemed.

Commenting to himself, Frank said, "There's something about the heart that makes it mysterious to the owner, but so obvious to everyone else."

Frowning, Seifer took another deep sip of water. "What the hell does my heart have to do with anything? Are you putting me on old man? If you need your damn roof fixed, just say so, 'cause I'd be happy to send Raijin up there."

Scratching his stubbly chin, Frank explained, "I mean, you're lovesick. I've seen it countless times, the soldiers who come here for peace but soon realize they left a special someone behind."

Setting his fork down, Seifer stared angrily at his empty plate. "That ship has sailed. She's with someone else." Honestly, Seifer couldn't imagine any connection between his thoughts of Squall and him being lovesick over Rinoa.

"Well, it can't hurt to try."

Slapping some coins on the tabletop, Seifer made to stand, his heart to heart effectively over. "Get your head examined Frank," he said with mock concern. "You're growing senile far too fast, maybe it's a tumor."

* * *

It had been a week since the dreams started. Seifer was going out of his mind as each childhood memory progressed further along, instilling some deep sense of just how long he'd known Squall, not to mention the confusing layers of their relationship. It wasn't that he'd forgotten any his past, never liking Guardian Forces and therefore never suffering the effects of junctioning. Rather, he'd never stopped to analyze any of it, living only in the present. 

When his feelings for Squall had become that of strictly a rival, he had acted upon that feeling and not considered the fact that in reality the brunet was possibly the closest person to him and was better fit to serve as a friend. Each time those cold blue eyes stared at him without flickering with emotion or recognition of their past together, he became irate, and acted solely on those immediate feelings.

He lay in bed, sheet twisted about after tossing restlessly. It was humid, no air-conditioning in his little apartment. As the first rays of light cast a faint glow on the water-stained ceiling, he cursed the early hour in which he'd woken. Every night it was same damn experience and the same rude awaking that brought no reprieve with force of thought. He couldn't control what he dreamed about any more than he could what he pined about all day long.

Everyday he felt his chest constricting a little more, like a snake that wrapped around his torso tightly, refusing to let up. It was oppressing and seemed to affect the beat of his heart foremost. A clean bill of health from the doc two doors over informed him that it wasn't physical, which meant he'd begun to avoid Frank's Diner, lest he believe Frank was right.

Lovesickness was a fucking joke.

Angrily untangling his long legs from the sheet, feeling the muggy air and slight feel of perspiration at his brow, he stood and made for the bathroom. First it'd be a cold shower to wake himself up, knowing he wouldn't be able to get back to sleep and not wanting to go through the day walking into walls.

Absently running a hand over his face, feeling the regal curve of his jaw and the slight stubble, he wound up stroking his scar. Staring into the mirror, his thoughts drifted to the scar he'd given Squall, a regrettable act.

His intent had never been to mar the younger boy's effeminate and decidedly attractive face, but rather to scare the brunet. However, the ice prince lived up to his title and never flinched, which caused a dangerous anger to flare inside him. He couldn't say that he was guilty about it, having a returned scar of his own, but he was inexplicably anguished over the way the scar seemed to represent two eras of his life. There was the time before the scars and then the horribly fucked up time after the scars.

There was such irony in the life he led in comparison to Squall. They'd both come from the same background and mirrored each other in so many ways. Yet, they'd wound up on opposing ends, not just standing across from each other as reflective counterparts, but as enemies.

With an angry growl, he tore from the mirror and stepped into the shower. He forced himself to stand beneath the cold spray, as if to prove that he had some level of control over his body, even if his mind was rampant.

* * *

A simple trip to buy a carton of milk turned into the ex-knight's worst nightmare, and ultimately the final push he needed. 

He was at the checkout counter, nearly finished with his simple errand. He accepted his change and the plastic bag that his single item had been placed in. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw it.

Frozen with the fear at finally snapping and succumbing to the sad level of hallucinating, he stared at the back of choppy dark brown hair. Perhaps it was a bit darker than he remembered, but no less mussed or naturally styled. The smaller frame seemed thinner, but word on the street was that Wonder Boy's health was waning. The slight flare of hips and overall lean form seemed to confirm every aspect he tried to scrounge up for comparison. The only way he'd know for certain was by the face, the familiar scar and unforgettable eyes.

With trepidation, he bit the bullet and stalked towards the shorter boy. "Leonhart," he bit out in a choked manner, a gamut of emotions swelling in his chest.

Turning around, a momentarily confused young woman stared with hazel green eyes. Blinking at the tall blond, recognition setting in, she murmured, "I'm sorry?"

"I…" Seifer was at a loss, sudden sadness filling him. He was hardly embarrassed at the mistake, simply disappointed. "I thought you were someone I knew," he excused with little cognitive function.

With a hand shooting to her hair, the young woman grinned sheepishly. "I guess I should ask my hair stylist to not do such a good job. You're the fifth person who's mistaken me for Squall Leonhart since I got it done. I mean, I wanted his hair, but come on." She laughed nervously. Eyeing the tanned man before her, she smiled more broadly. "I wanted my boyfriend to change his hair, but we broke up a month ago."

Seifer almost forgot the woman was still speaking until he noticed the offered hand.

"I'm Clarice Morgan," she introduced. When the heartthrob before her simply shook her hand, she prompted, "You're Seifer Almasy, right?"

"Yeah," the blond replied, his body feeling numb at the moment.

"I recognized you almost right away." Blushing slightly at the brash words she was bout to speak, she tried to smile disarmingly, not wanting to come off as some groupie. "Between you and Commander Leonhart, me and my girlfriends practically fainted when you were all over the news. I never knew mercenaries were so attractive."

Managing a wry smile, Seifer tried to contain the various retorts that came to mind. "Most of them aren't," he answered, as if he were no longer a mercenary.

"Listen, if you're not doing anything tonight, let me buy you dinner," Clarice offered, jumping at the opportunity to have a date with this man.

"I can't," Seifer replied immediately, green eyes narrowing in sudden decision. "I'm heading out to Balamb Garden tonight."

* * *

"Hey man, where ya goin'?" Raijin questioned as Seifer hastily shoved the contents of his dresser drawer into a single large duffel bag. 

"I'll let you know when I get there," the blond answered evasively, a bit too preoccupied to explain his reasoning behind the sudden urge to return to Garden.

Head bowed, Raijin scratched the back of his neck. "It's me, ya know? I'd go with you no matter what. Fu too, ya know?"

"AFFIRMATIVE," the white haired young woman announced, standing beside the burly fighter, her stature dwarfed when compared to Raijin's.

"Sorry guys, I'm gonna have to bail on our poker night." Passing by his bedroom window he cursed. "Shit, that looks like a nasty storm." He could only hope it didn't delay the train.

* * *

In a rush to the station, preferring not to be caught in the downpour, a latent guilt formed. Seifer felt bad for leaving Raijin and Fujin so abruptly, his two most loyal friends. He'd been leaving them in the dark for weeks, regardless of their obvious efforts to help. 

However, when he arrived at Balamb and managed to figure out what the hell was the matter with him, everything would go back to normal.

A humid updraft blew, the denseness of it not making it feel any cooler than the surrounding air. The wind swept low. Seifer could hear it sweeping across the stone courtyard, blowing a lonesome plastic bag like some faux tumbleweed.

As he practically jogged down the long ramp, silently cursing that the mayor didn't just put in a set of stairs, he turned to gaze at approaching clouds. Heavy and dark, he saw distant lightening flash within them. However, with the lack of thunder, he was inclined to compare it to heat lightening.

His heavy boots clunk along the wooden ramp until a more solid ground absorbed the sound. The jeans he wore were the first pair of pants he'd donned since arriving in Fisherman's Horizon. Balamb was cooler at that time of year, but for the moment he suffered despite the light t-shirt.

He was about a half hour early, but he didn't own an umbrella and would rather stand around habitually checking his watch than answer to the relentless questions from his two best buds.

The light grey stone of the open courtyard was practically white after being exposed to such constant salty air. The blond often wondered if he could take filed scrapings and just use it to garnish his food. However, he wasn't actually so desperately bored to find out.

With his gunblade in its rectangular black case, he trucked it in one arm while he carried his standard SeeD duffle bag in the other. Slinging the bag over his shoulder, he stalked up the short slope of stairs that made the entrance to the station.

Newly renovated, the matching stone décor was several shades darker, though the slight enclosure did minimize the effect of weathering winds.

Purchasing his ticket, Seifer was quite pleased to find his early arrival gave him one of only a few spots left on the last train leaving. Apparently the storm was going to be brutal, and once the train made it to Balamb Harbor, it was staying there until further notice.

Waiting for the train, Seifer attempted to sit still on one of the benches, however his tap dancing feet wouldn't stop moving. Standing up, he paced. After several repeated lengths of the platform, finding the pointless expense of energy to be just another level he'd sunk to, he sat down once more.

Knowing that he was going to see Squally-boy had him more worked up than ever. He couldn't decipher between the knotting emotions in his stomach. Between a pathetic nervousness and anxiousness, he also felt growing excitement. It had been eight months since the war ended, and six months since he'd settled in the quiet town in the middle of nowhere. In all that time, he hadn't once seen anyone he'd known at Garden besides Raijin and Fujin.

Receiving retribution for his crimes was hardly a fear or concern after the first couple months. While he wasn't too sure how his arrogance would stand up in court, he felt safe in assuming he was past being put on trial. Garden didn't really word that way, and considering it was SeeD who had played the largest part in stopping Ultimecia, it was basically their call.

He wouldn't be punished and had thus far endured very little grief from the civilians he'd hurt.

Still, going back had never seemed like a good idea. There were always other sorts of reactions he'd be welcomed with that would send him running. He could almost imagine instructor Trepe giving him a hug and explaining why they all forgave him.

Forgiveness and sympathy were two of the many things he could live without.

He'd make it quick, in and out. Just to see Leonhart, nothing else. Maybe he should see Rinoa too, in case some old flame sparked. It would be a huge relief if he saw her and felt his heart beat rapidly, a relief that meant his growing obsessions somehow related to a pretty woman and not a pretty man.

Distant rumbling sounded, the lightening not detectable in the daylight unless he was looking right at the storm clouds.

A smirk pulled his pale lips upwards. Every time it thundered, he was reminded of Squally-boy's weakness. Consequently, given his constant dreams lately, he was also reminded of his first kiss.

Frowning suddenly, Seifer's memory became more distinct the more he concentrated. With a bowed head he gently smacked his fist against his forehead. He'd been such a little horn dog at that age, with thanks to Kinneas. To think he'd snuck into Squall's room and practically raped the poor kid. Though, it hadn't been entirely one sided.

As the downpour came, he checked his watch. With ten minutes to go he felt a sudden flush of heat wash over him. As if finally running its course, his knotted stomach loosened. The first feeling of calm since the beginning of the war settled in.

Ruling out the possibility of being drugged, he sat back and waited. He didn't know what it was, but something felt terribly right for once. Perhaps it was some chemical imbalance. After so much bad shit coursing through his veins, now he was releasing endorphins or something.

The sound of the rain was pleasant, even in its harsh pattering against the ground. Before he knew it, he could hear the train coming in as well, the minutes having escaped his attention.

TBC… please review if you liked it>


	3. Chapter 3

Warning: A little kiss and mentioning of sex. Nothing graphic.

Part III

An Odd Couple

Without reason, Squall knelt on the cushion and stared out the window with almost giddy excitement. He felt on edge, like something was going to happen any moment. The trouble was that experience dictated that bad events usually followed the nagging little feelings he had. So, despite feeling more excited than tense, he had his gunblade at his side for caution's sake.

As the train slowed, he debated debarking with his blade unsheathed. However, he began to realize how foolish he was being. It was a simple task to draw his weapon, no need to cause alarm among any other passengers.

When he began to feel like some overactive puppy unable to settle down from the window of its master's car, Squall slid into place properly. Staring fixedly through the glass at the churning ocean, he let the slowing speed tell him how close the train was to the station. His thoughts betrayed him as he continued to think about his past, specifically Seifer.

If he were to be completely honest with himself, he simply missed the blond bastard. It was a fierce sort of emptiness that had grown since the moment Seifer vanished from sight. While abandonment was a prevalent theme in his life, he hardly felt sorry for himself. Seifer leaving had been different though, affecting him more than he cared to admit.

No one except Rinoa knew, but at night when he dreamed, he called out the knight's name. Squall was a bit thankful that when his raven-haired princess had expressed her concerns to Cid, she'd knowingly classified his sleeping habits as nightmares.

If there was anything Squall knew, it was that the subconscious didn't lie. He spent most of his time thinking and knew just how easy it was to classify certain feelings wrongly. Though he'd never admit it to another person, he hardly deluded himself into thinking Seifer had been nothing more than a good sparring partner.

Seifer was a childhood companion, someone who had always been in his life one way or another. His rivalry with the older boy had been a cherished relationship. There was a complex understanding between them that never needed to be addressed or analyzed, and he missed that. He missed the strong connection.

For all his isolation and shunning of contact with his fellow classmate or friend, he'd always had Seifer, whether or not he'd realized as much. Now he felt like he was alone. There was no relationship and therefore his asocial behavior left him without any manner of intimate contact with anyone. While it was entirely a product of his own doing, he wasn't sure he knew any different after so many years.

It was really starting to eat away at him. His mind kept pining over the lost rival that served as his single contact. It was a great loss for him that hurt a little more each day.

As the train rolled in and came to a halt, Squall was jolted from his inner musings. For the briefest of moments, he thought he glimpsed a familiar face. He'd seen the golden blond hair out of the corner of his eye.

Quickly, he dismissed any possibility of finding Seifer at the train station in FH. It was simply a matter of seeing what he obviously wanted to see. Undeniably, he wanted to see Seifer again, thus he'd seen some random blond outside and immediately jumped to the conclusion.

He scoffed at the way his heart raced as he stood up, his body not listening to the logic of his brain. If his steps were slightly hastened, it was only because he was itching to get out of the thunderstorm and back to Esthar where he could forget everything in the heat of battle.

Before he could rush off, he paced his compartment. He refused to run onto the platform and look around like a fool.

* * *

Seifer found his eyes scanning the many faces of each passenger as they came off the train. It was difficult considering there were about five long compartments that spanned the entire platform, people exiting from every which way. He wondered if there was room to house them for the night in the small town. Nearly all of them were no doubt intent on transferring and heading out to Esthar.

He didn't know why he searched, but he felt a certain excitement that made the blood rush through his veins, just like the old days during a spar with Squally-boy. It was almost maddening.

He took several steps forward in his growing excitement, scanning the faces as quickly as possible. However, it was more difficult the closer he moved to the train, so he kept backing up after moving in too close. His height proved quite useful as he towered over everyone else, but there was an abnormally large amount of people, which was just his luck.

Just when he thought no one else was left, at least a minute having gone by since the last straggler past by with a curse about the rain, he turned and glanced at the furthest compartment.

He felt frozen in place. He stared transfixed as his mind tried to disprove that the pretty boy commander was coincidentally in Fisherman's Horizon on the same day he decided to travel to Balamb.

Briefly, he thought he was hallucinating again, wondering if it was another look-alike. That was obviously not the case as those steely blue eyes turned his way. Time seemed to slow the moment their eyes met. Seifer's breath hitched as the smaller man walked toward him.

Though he stood straight and appeared calm, he felt ready to burst. He knew he should be thinking of something to say, deciding on whether to bypass the whole fact that they hadn't seen each other in eight months. All he could do was stare.

Seifer saw that the pretty boy's hair had gotten even longer, nearly brushing narrow shoulders in a sort of unmannered and mussed way. It made that delicate face look even more effeminate, assuring anyone who cared to imagine it that Commander Leonhart could pass for a woman just as easily as a beautiful man. Despite unruly strands occasionally hiding bright eyes from view, Seifer could feel the brunet's gaze upon him.

It was a sore chance to miss seeing Rinoa, since the former knight felt the blatant beat of his heart thumping faster with each step Squall took closer. His manhood was in serious question as he eyed bowed lips and wished he could recall the feel of kissing them all those years ago.

Before he knew it, the Commander was standing within arm's reach and those lips were moving. As if the trance were broken, his rush back to reality was smoothly guided by that soft voice he hadn't heard in what felt like forever.

"Almasy," the brunet spoke again. Squall's shock over seeing the former knight out of the blue was made worse by the fact that he felt like he'd finally gotten what he wanted. It was as pathetic as it was disturbing to think that he actually wanted to see Seifer.

Staring down, Seifer couldn't help but grin. It was beyond nostalgic to have those icy eyes gazing at him with an ever-present defiance. "Leonhart," he greeted in return, relishing the way the name felt when he said it to the owner.

Hardly willing to be the first to break the gaze, Squall stared despite the moments that continued to pass. He tried to find some sign within those striking green irises, some expression of feeling that would let him know where the blond stood. The trouble with Seifer was that there were too many emotions to decipher and the most important ones were always as well hidden as his own.

Offering his hand, Seifer waited to see if it would be accepted or ignored. While he did not peg Squall as the type to hold grudges, it was impossible to tell what thoughts formed behind that guarded expression.

Never hesitating, Squall took the offered hand and nearly lost himself for it. It was a warm touch with calloused skin. The firm grip felt all encompassing, the larger hand seeming to hold his own and not the other way around. Though his expression remained neutral, a small shiver ran through him.

"Squall," Seifer spoke slowly, as if his lips needed to be trained to say the boy's first name. It was his subtle offer at friendship. In the moment he grasped the brunet's hand he realized he couldn't settle for not seeing Squall on a regular basis, so it was either back to their rivalry or a change for something more. Having something more than rivalry was quite appealing.

"…" For a long moment Squall just stared. Nearly as stubborn as himself, Seifer didn't seem to mind waiting and leaving him in confusion. The speaking of his name was unnatural and didn't seem to imply anything while at the same time sending his thoughts in countless directions. At length, he finally replied, "Seifer."

"Why do I get the feeling that's not the first time you've said my name," Seifer said with tightening grip to the hand he still held.

Squall felt his cheeks heat against his will to remain impassive. All he could think about were his dreams, when he must have called Seifer by name and not by the title he used for his rival.

Seifer almost laughed, finding the blush that came to pale cheeks rather adorable. Instead he released the hand in his hold, having already held on longer than necessary. "Come on," he said with a nod backwards. "The trains aren't running 'til the storm's over."

As if just realizing for the first time that there was a storm raging, Squall glanced along the tracks, following them to the open area and seeing the torrents of heavy rain. Instinctively he reached for his gunblade, preferring to have it sealed in his case than at his hip.

Seifer watched with peeking interest as Squall made to stow the Revolver blade away. "Where's that neon beauty?"

"Balamb," the brunet answered shortly.

"Any particular reason why you're using such an old model?"

"It's not old," Squall defended immediately, betraying the conscious intent of using that specific gunblade.

Leaving it at that, Seifer thought about the possibilities. It was difficult to read Squall, but he had years of practice. The use of this gunblade was purposeful, but he didn't know why.

Case closed, Squall stood up. His eyes caught a familiar looking case propped against nearby bench. Gunblades were hardly common and he'd be a fool not to assume it was Seifer's, along with the duffel bag beside it.

"Going somewhere?" Squall questioned.

"Yeah," Seifer answered. "I was going to see you." Without further explanation, he strode over to grab his stuff, no longer needing to make the trip since Squall had come to him.

Squall watched the ex-knight's broad back as the man began to walk away. It was painfully familiar.

Seifer stopped. Turning back, he gave a look of expectation. He was slightly alarmed to find Squally-boy gazing at him with anguish in those stormy eyes. "Come on," he prompted. "The storm's only getting worse and we'll be soaked by the time we make it to my place anyway."

Nodding numbly, Squall hefted his load and followed without question. The trains weren't running and he needed a place to stay. Perhaps he could finally settle his restlessness and banish his thoughts that always strayed to the blond knight.

They walked side by side, an odd looking pair as they both seemed to mirror each other. Cases placed in opposite hands it was a wonder they hadn't been trained to reflect each other's mannerisms and gestures. However, their similarities were as numerous as their differences. It was always extreme with them. Hot and cold, fire and ice, ostentatious and shy.

"I know why you use that blade," Seifer said above the loud splatter of heavy drops hitting the hard ground. A white mist formed where the pellets bounced back up, as if they walked through a foot of wet fog.

With a knowing grin, Seifer stopped in the middle of the courtyard. They were halfway soaked anyway, delaying a minute or two wouldn't make a difference. "It's because that was your weapon when we were together."

Hair darkened as it plastered itself to his head, Squall stared curiously at the blond. While the assumption was cocky and outrageous, it was also completely true. Still, he was hardly going to admit as much. "I don't need the Lion Heart to be a good fighter. Sweeping the outskirts of Esthar doesn't call for my best blade. It'd be overkill."

"You're a poor liar Squall," Seifer commented quickly. "I can always tell when you lie because you string more than a single sentence together."

Jaw clenching Squall turned away and began walking without the blond.

"You don't know where to go," Seifer called out.

"I'll go the hotel," Squall bit out without looking back.

"No, you won't," Seifer affirmed, jogging to catch up. "I didn't pack my bags and buy a ticket just so you could show up here and stay at a hotel. There's a lot we need to talk about." Doubling up his luggage in one hand, he reached out to grab Squall's shoulder.

"Like what?" the brunet questioned icily, jerking away from the offending hand that tried to touch his shoulder.

"Like why I can't stop thinking about you," Seifer stated bluntly, choosing not to think about his words lest he keep them in because of pride. He always spoke what was on his mind, even on the rare occasions that it hurt his ego instead of boosting it.

"How about why you left," Squall suggested in hot accusation, glaring at the older boy with flickering anguish that seemed to creep past his barriers defiantly.

The darkest of clouds seem to settle right over the small town. A violent streak of lightening flashed across the sky, as if cracking it right down the center. The deafening thunder that followed caused grey-blue eyes to dart upwards as the pale brunet tensed up.

Seifer saw the fear in the young man that so many people believed to be fearless. Everyone had a weakness. The quiet little boy who'd jumped at the loud claps of thunder was now the strong young man who tried valiantly to remain unaffected by all earthly elements, but failed to mask the still present fear.

On impulse, and perhaps insanity, Seifer stooped and captured wet lips. They were cold from the rain had been running down the shorter man's upturned face. Finding that there was a pivotal moment between taking it further or backing off, he struggled with the decision.

With a thud, Seifer dropped his bag and case from his hand and firmly replaced the hand that had been rejected earlier. Gripping Squall's shoulder, hoping he didn't wind up half dead for his actions, he continued to kiss the brunet. He couldn't have been in a right state of mind and he fully intended to find psychiatric help after it. Insistent that he draw out some sort of reaction, his arms encircled the brunet's smaller frame and he tried to kiss more forcefully.

Stunned and confused, Squall wasn't even sure of his own name. Seifer was kissing him. At least he was pretty sure that's what the blond was doing. He couldn't be sure of anything at the moment. By the time his senses began to take hold, he was torn between what to do first.

Seifer pulled back from unresponsive lips, his pride only allowing him to carry on for a certain amount of time before he had to back off. There really weren't any excuses for it, given that he wasn't a child any more.

Seifer searched the wide and skittish eyes of the smaller man he held in his arms. Was he a fool to think the kiss would be returned like all those years ago? What the hell was wrong with him? What in Hyne's name did he think he was doing?

Blinking against the rain, Seifer took a steady breath, a lump forming in his throat and a burning sensation forming in his eyes. Grinning broadly as if it had been some colossal joke, he excused, "Sorry, old habits you know. I felt nostalgic all of sudden."

Squall simply stared, unable to process so much at once. Seifer was quite the hypocrite to call him the bad liar. "You're crying," he muttered. His mind didn't seem to process anything beyond the obvious.

Shaking his head, Seifer pulled away, distancing himself from Squall as if burned. "I've fucking lost it," he said angrily. Turning on Squall as if it were the boy's fault, he accused, "Who the hell are you to make me think about you? I can't have one damn moment of peace without your fucking face inside my head!"

Frowning, Squall took in the angry and defensive tone. The animosity seemed to trigger proper brain function. Finally processing what had just happened, he dropped his luggage and swung at the tanned knight's face.

With a solid hit sending pain through the left side of his face, Seifer straightened from the blow and practically snarled as he countered the attack. Tackling the pretty boy to the hard, cold ground, he let loose eight months worth of heavy hits. Blocking forearms took most of it, but he hardly cared where the hits landed.

Squall waited for the right moment. Somehow it was far easier to fight Seifer than reason with the blond, maybe that was why they'd fought in the first place-- because it had just been easier. Jabbing the knight's kidneys, he reversed their positions and gave a similar stream of angry punches. "Selfish bastard!" he shouted angrily. "You left me!"

Something in Squall's words brought Seifer down from his angry rage. There was more fear in the tone than anger, and it suddenly occurred to him that Squall might have another weakness apart from thunder. Squally-boy was afraid of being left behind.

No longer seeing red, he peered beyond his defending arms and saw tearful eyes. There was anguish, sadness, and the sort of hollowness that he'd seen after Sis left the orphanage.

"Squall," the blond called hoarsely, attempting to bring an end to their foolish fight. The assault wasn't even well aimed. The hits were erratic, as if an outward expression of the words the brunet couldn't form. However, beyond the pained expression and wild punches, Squall didn't seem to register anything else.

Dangerously letting his guard down, Seifer tried to grab moving hands, eventually managing to grip deceivingly bony wrists. "Squall," he called a bit louder while raising his head off the cold and wet ground. At length, the sopping form that straddled him grew calm.

Ignoring the sore throb of his face and the bruised feel of his stomach, Seifer managed to sit upright. With Squall's wrists still in his hold, he called the boy's name once more, already used to it. As stormy eyes rose from their blank gaze at his chest, he released his hold and cupped the other's pale face. He was almost sorry at the smear of blood near the corner of pout lips, a swollen cut freshly made.

Squall wondered why he always fell apart around Seifer. Was it fate to have one person that he couldn't keep out? If he were to be honest with himself, he didn't really want to keep everyone out, but at the same time he didn't want to let anyone get too close. Seifer had always been too close, hearing his words and knowing his unspoken thoughts. No one annoyed him more than Seifer. Was it coincidence that no one annoyed him more and no one knew him better?

Giving up for that moment only, Squall quickly latched onto the person who annoyed him, who understood him, and who had left him. He pressed forward and wrapped his arms around the man's neck, not caring how it was perceived.

Letting out a long breath, Seifer swallowed thickly, forcing himself not to fall any further by crying like a child. Nothing made sense anymore and he was slightly fearful that it never would again.

As the ice prince continued to hug him for dear life, he returned it. His arms surrounded the brunet's lithe frame, gripping tightly without care for the air that needed to fill Squall's lungs. As one hand traveled up to find a sopping mess of dark strands, he twined his fingers in it.

Seifer lost count of the minutes. Before long, the air didn't feel as warm. Willing to wait for Squall to release him, he squeezed the form in his lap for the warmth it gave.

"If there is anything I regret, it's leaving you," he soothed as if speaking to a child.

"Poor liar," Squall muttered. Strings of wet hair hung in his eyes as he stared blankly at the stones of the ground.

"I have missed you though," Seifer admitted truthfully. He didn't regret the war and hadn't even considered the fact that Squall might have cared about his departure. Now that he knew, he felt bad, but hardly regretted it.

* * *

Roughly rubbing his hand through short blond strands, Seifer shook out some of the water in his hair. Glancing at Squall, he smirked. "I'll have to get you a towel," he said, subtly picking on the feminine length of Squall's hair. A cold glare was the only response he received.

Once separated from each other and colder for it, the exchange outside the train station seemed all but forgotten. Seifer wasn't sure if he was relieved or annoyed by it. While addressing what happened would mean explaining why he'd kissed the brunet, ignoring it all together felt like he himself was being ignored.

Leading by example, Seifer pealed his shirt off and let it drop with a plop to the ground. Next came the boots. As he crouched to undo the laces, he cast a glance over to the slow going brunet. He watched slender fingers deftly unbutton the black shirt. It was almost taunting, dangling the sight of something he'd hadn't seen in ages before his eyes.

Growing angry at the forming lewd thoughts, Seifer nearly broke his laces while tugging them loose. Before his eyes strayed again, he quickly rid himself of heavy jeans and stalked into his apartment.

Squall remained in the entryway, silently chastising the blond for just leaving the wet clothes on the floor. He was rather surprised to see the exposed body of his rival. Seifer didn't appear to have become lax in training. With skin tanned by the sun, firm muscles lay beneath every inch.

A towel was abruptly tossed in his face, effectively distracting him from his curiosity about whether the mayor openly allowed Seifer to practice anywhere.

"Pants too Squally-boy. It might not look like much, but I don't need you wetting my bed." Seifer couldn't help it if he was good at taking shots at the brunet. It was an old habit that certainly didn't seem prone to dying any time soon.

"How long have you lived here?" Squall questioned as the blond's form disappeared once more. Working out of his pants, he let his clothes remain on the floor in a similar state as Seifer's. With the towel placed over his shoulders, he immediately began scrounging through his bag.

Frowning, Squall was surprised he hadn't noticed the change of weight in the bag. There were about three extra pants and maybe four shirts that hadn't been there before. Rinoa could be very sneaky when she wanted to. He should probably check all the pants pockets later for some sort of note or letter.

"You can change in the bathroom if you must," Seifer said with a small grin as he leaned against the wall. With a dry set of baggy sweat pants on, he crossed his arms before his bare chest, as if flaunting his lack of concern over exposure.

Glaring defiantly at the ex-knight, Squall stood and slid out of his last remaining garment. The clinging pair of boxers fell as if never needed in the first place. With a final scowl, he knelt back down to grab random articles of clothing and begin to dress himself.

Losing interest, since it was obvious Squall couldn't care less about being seen naked, Seifer tore away from his place and walked to his bedroom. If it served no purpose, then he'd prefer to have a shirt on. Despite the warm temperature, he felt chilled. Perhaps it was one too many icy glares in such a short period of time. Those eyes could freeze a lesser man's blood.

"You never answered me," Squall said as he ventured further in and sought Seifer out. Wearing another pair of jeans, confused why Rinoa had bought several items so similar, he also donned a plain white t-shirt. He felt slightly awkward in such unfamiliar surroundings, a certain air about it being intimate for no apparent reason. It was one scenario to be in Seifer's dorm, a dwelling supplied by Garden, but to be in the blond's own apartment was somehow different.

"About six months, give or take a few days," Seifer replied simply. It was becoming increasingly annoying that Squall seemed wholly uninterested in the fact that he'd kissed him.

"You said you were coming to see me, why?"

Seifer slammed his dresser drawer shut. "How long are you going to just ignore what happened?" the blond questioned with an edgy tone. Roughly shrugging into a plain white beater, he turned around.

"For as long as I think I couldn't understand it even if you explained," Squall shot back.

Incredulously, Seifer turned and stared at Squall. "Do you think I know why I did it?"

"You are the one who…" he trailed off, not able to say it aloud.

"Who kissed you," Seifer supplied easily, stepping closer as if to imply he intended to do it again.

Though Squall could see the taunting glint in green eyes, knowing Seifer had no such intentions of kissing him, he took a step back regardless. He didn't need to become more confused and that's exactly what Seifer was doing to his mind.

"You're not afraid of the big bad wolf now are you Squall?"

"Hardly," Squall bit out, forcing himself to remain in place at the blond's approach. He bit his lip to keep from saying anything when the ex-knight came right before him and slid an arm around his back.

Seifer almost laughed at his ability to badger reactions out of Squall. A small gasp escaped the brunet's lips as he jerked the smaller man closer, against his body. "Tell me you haven't been madly in love with me all these years," he whispered daringly.

Brows furrowed, Squall pushed against a broad chest and succeeded in leaning back enough to stare with slight horror and great disbelief.

The blond did laugh this time, finding Squall's expression priceless. "No of course not," he assured, not wanting the boy to think he was serious. "But you admit that there is something. From the way you clung to me only seconds after finally finding me again, I'd say I'm not the only one who's been doing a lot of thinking."

Squall frowned at the way Seifer made it sound like he'd been the one to seek the blond out. "Whatever," he scoffed in dismissal. He'd been too wound up to know what he was doing. It meant nothing.

"You want to put that to the test?" Seifer said, easily understanding the words left unspoken.

Eyes widening, Squall betrayed himself. Scowling at the wide grin the arrogant man gave, he decided he'd rather admit that he was uncomfortable being so close than be subjected to the ex-knight's mind reading.

Once freed, Squall stalked away. The kitchen was easy enough to find considering it was in plain view. As he opened the fridge, he felt the looming presence of the blond.

"You could use a little more meat on those bones," Seifer commented from behind the skittish young man. It was almost amusing to see how unsure Squall was all of a sudden, unable to tell if he was joking or whether his close proximity meant anything.

Straightening back up, Squall held up a plastic bottle of dark green liquid. Without seeking permission, he stepped away from the form that seemed to corner him and took a sip.

"Give me that," Seifer chastised as he snatched it from the brash boy's hand. Taking his own sip he let the potion flow through him and heal the bruises given to him by the wary Commander. He grimaced at the bitter taste. "It's better cold," he assured as he stored it back in the fridge.

Squall rolled his eyes. "That's what you always say." How else would he have known the potion was in the fridge?

"So, you were heading to Esthar?" Seifer began amicably, not really looking forward to making small talk.

Not appreciating the older boy's attempt at smoothing recent events over, Squall finally asked, "Why'd you kiss me?" He didn't really want an answer, but he didn't feel like talking about what he'd been up to for the past eight months either. A slight curiosity swayed the balance.

"Why do you think?" Seifer returned as he leaned against the counter top and crossed his arms.

"Don't play games. You're the one who wanted to talk about it, I'd be fine writing it off."

"Okay then, it never happened," Seifer said with a shrug. Straightening, he stalked into the small living room that held little more than a couch.

Frowning, Squall wasn't sure if he should just leave or stay. The idea of going back out in the rain wasn't appealing, but neither was spending his night being annoyed by Seifer. After a few moments of silent debate, he too left the kitchen area.

For several long minutes, Squall sat next to Seifer in silence. He knew exactly what the blond was doing and he wasn't going to fall prey to something so childish. More stubborn by far, he could sit there all night and not speak a single word.

Seifer stared at the sulking brunet, finding that the moodiness was quite welcome after going so long without it. "I've missed having a good sparring partner," he said after a while.

Out of the corner of his eye, Seifer saw that he had Squall's attention. He wasn't sure how he felt about Squall anymore, but there were several reasons for his plaguing thoughts that were obvious now. "It'd be nice to have that again," he said in a suggestive manner. "Hyne knows you're the only other bladist who knows which end to hold, even if you do it with both your hands."

With a small grin, Seifer took notice of how Squall shifted slightly, turning his way a bit. If he kept it up, he'd likely lure the pretty boy right into his bed. "I've been thinking too much lately. It's not healthy for someone like me."

Hesitantly, unsure exactly what sort of life Seifer lead, Squall spoke, "I'm staying in Esthar for a while, camping on the outskirts. We're doing a sweep, since the Lunar Cry overwhelmed the city."

With a gruff sigh, Seifer sat back a bit. "Sounds fun," he commented with a small smirk of understanding.

Grey-blue eyes studied the blond's regal face. "You mean to come with me then?" he questioned uncertainly.

"Well, since you're obviously so desperate for my expertise, yes." Craning his head back, he reclined with his arms propped on the back of the couch. "I can't promise my blade won't turn on you if the urge comes," he warned with a grin.

"My men would kill you for that," Squall replied with a small smile of his own. Somehow it didn't feel real. Was it so easy for Seifer to simply say he was coming and then do so? What about having a life in FH? Could the blond just up and leave like that? Part of him was jealous of such an ability. Though he was also a bit excited to finally know what it'd be like fighting together for once.

Huffing indignantly, Seifer raised his head. "Careful Leonhart, if you keep smiling I'm gonna think you're in love with me."

Smile faltering, Squall glared.

"It's a joke," the blond assured. Before he could completely botch up his previous achievement at getting the cloistered man to open up a bit, he waved Squall over. "Come here."

Frowning, Squall remained at the other end of the three-seat couch in refusal.

"Please," Seifer added with a slightly hopeful edge. If any part of him knew what his true feelings were, it was the part that had returned the hug with crushing strength.

With doubt filling his mind, Squall slowly complied.

* * *

Squall didn't know it was possible to feel both rested and worn out at the same time. Though he shifted to wake up, his body was far too attached to the comfortable warmth. His movements only succeeded in burrowing further beneath the blankets. Despite his knowledge that he couldn't laze about, he drifted without waking completely. He knew that if his mind and body stirred, then the surrounding warmth would become too hot and he'd be forced to leave it.

"Mmm," a deep voice hummed with pleasure. Sneaking an arm around the sleeping boy's slim waist, Seifer pulled the form closer.

Eyes snapping open, Squall stared at the pillow his face was turned against. Images of the previous night flooded his mind. "Dear Hyne," he murmured with overwhelming trepidation.

A little annoyed at such a reaction the morning after, Seifer attempted to remind Squall of why last night was not something to regret. Nuzzling a slender neck he said, "I thought _I_ was your god last night."

"Almasy," Squall hissed, slapping the blond's head.

"Okay," Seifer relented before a swatting slap turned into a well-placed punch. Perhaps it was expecting too much so soon. "Make last night whatever you will," he sighed. Daring to place a kiss to the boy's temple, he slid away. "But don't forget that it was fucking amazing." Leaving Squall to get over the initial panic, which he'd already done after feeling the sleeping Commander curl against him, he opted for a quick shower.

Squall remained in the bed, needing to gather his thoughts. He focused on breathing properly first, feeling as if he might start hyperventilating at any moment. He tried to ignore that he was sprawled in the knight's warm bed. The fact that his body found it terribly comfortable seemed to mock his brain, which was working through his feelings of horror.

"I slept with Seifer," he spoke aloud in disbelief. What had possessed him to have sex with a man he'd spent his life fighting? He hadn't been drunk or drugged, which only left temporary insanity.

For what felt like an eternity, Squall stayed in that bed. It wasn't until sinking mattress and sudden weight on top of him that he was pulled back from his frantic thoughts.

Seifer couldn't help but hope for the best. In his view, making it through that morning without being killed would be a good outcome. His highest hopes were that they could simply move on with a casual air about it, as if it had just been another fight, and let things form from there.

Shifting the blanket, he gave the brunet a sense of security with the barrier. He almost hugged the huddled form that was like a solid lump under the covers. For a testing moment, he kept some of his weight atop Squall, wondering if the Commander would lash out or if his time in the shower had given the brunet enough reprieve to settle down.

"I know how you feel," the blond assured, feeling none too secure about any of it himself. He would much prefer to write it off, not even caring if he felt ignored for it. Sexual frustration seemed like a great excuse, which might work for Squall but would be a stretch for him. It was more than sexual frustration on his part when he'd spent a good hour coaxing the timid brunet and warming his formal rival up to his touch.

Turning his head slightly, Squall peered up at Seifer, part of his vision blurred by the covers. "I need to leave," he stated soundly.

"Not without a shower and a swig of the nice green water."

Squall frowned for a moment before blushing heatedly. "Bastard," he said accusingly, hating that his cheeks were bright red and detracted from the whole anger aspect.

Grinning broadly, suddenly terribly proud, Seifer returned, "A sore ass is hardly a consequence for everything else I gave you last night."

"Hyne Seifer," Squall groaned before burying his face in the pillow. Trying to be optimistic, he concluded that it was at least good he didn't wake up with the blond laughing at him and declaring that it had been some sort of revenge.

Jostling the springs, Seifer practically jumped up and down on Squall's form. "Come on Squally-boy. It was a little weird, maybe awkward at times, but it was fucking amazing."

"Before I start calling you Irvine, get the hell off me!" Squall yelled in a muffled voice. Scrambling from his place, too much going on for him to miss the warmth, he stumbled out of the bed.

The first step nearly left him on the floor, but he managed to grit his teeth and walk to the doorway. "Fucking Hyne," he cursed through clenched teeth. Hearing stifled laughter he turned and sent a venomous glare Seifer's way. "Prick," he called.

Gulping at the dangerous gleam of ice in cold steel blue eyes, Seifer straightened up and wiped the smile off his face. "Sorry," he apologized automatically, seeing that the brunet was in no mood. Biting his lip, he forced himself to contain his amusement. He couldn't explain why, but seeing the Balamb Lion angrily stalking away with his own dried seed on an inner thigh was highly amusing to him.

Fuming, Squall slammed the fridge shut and straightened up without so much as a sigh of relief. The sight of his pants draped over the arm of the couch did little to calm him. What the hell was running through his head when he'd quietly relished the exploring touches?

With a slam of the bathroom door, Squall paid little attention to what he was doing or his surroundings. It didn't take a whole lot of concentration to start a shower.

It wasn't until he soaped down that he was reminded of the feel of Seifer's hot release filling him. He scrubbed the remaining vestiges of sex off his body, thoroughly cleaning himself for shame of walking around with the blond's semen on him.

He wanted to feel disgusted, just as badly as he'd wanted to feel guilty about being such a bad boyfriend to Rinoa and a bad friend to the only group of people who could put up with him. However, disgust didn't even seem to be flickering beneath the many other emotions he felt churning within.

There was so much wrong with what had happened. Seifer seemed quite pleased about it all and that scared him. What exactly did the blond want from him? After leaving him and then suddenly turning up like this?

Closing his eyes, Squall recalled his moments of ecstasy, clinging to Seifer regardless of how terribly hot it was. It had certainly been fucking amazing, to word it as the crude knight would. Even then, alone in the shower, he could almost feel the blond filling him, splitting him.

Turning the tap off, Squall muttered a stream of curses under his breath. He only ever resorted to swearing when his mind was too wound up to think of anything better to say. The morning after was supposed to bring clarity to everything, not muddle it all up again.

Considering he hadn't worn his clothes for very long the previous night, Squall gathered his strewn garments from around the small apartment and dressed. He was mildly surprised to find the damp clothes picked up from the entry way and the bed neatly made.

There was no ex-knight in sight, which caused rising concern in him. "Seifer," he called out, just to make certain there wasn't another room to the place he didn't know about. After pacing the place in debate of whether or not to grab his stuff and leave for Esthar, he found a small note taped to the fridge.

In hastily scribbled handwriting, the torn piece of notebook paper read:

Don't even think of leaving. I'll hunt you down and finish this one way or another, so sit your tight ass down and wait for me.

Scowling at the note, it was a moment before Squall realized the paper hardly constituted a good target for his anger. Crumpling the note, he shoved it in his pocket without second thought and took a seat on the couch.

His impatience soon changed to brooding as he silently took the time to analyze everything that had happened.

It wasn't much more than ten minutes before the main door opened and Seifer strode through with an armload.

"Sorry, I was detained by a curious old man," Seifer excused as he grinned at a rather sour looking brunet. "It wouldn't kill you to look a bit pleased to see me," he complained. "I come bearing gifts."

While such a comment would have sent Selphie bouncing off the walls, Squall stared with ill amusement. He was slightly curious at the Styrofoam containers that appeared to be doggy bags for a meal.

"Best damn omelets you'll ever find," Seifer boasted with a broadening grin. Handing one container off, he stalked into the kitchen for a couple of forks.

Feeling uneasy, Squall eyed his breakfast without attempting to eat it. Seifer seemed rather enthusiastic as he sat down and started right away. While he was quite hungry, not having realized it until just then, it felt wrong to just go about having breakfast in light of everything that had happened.

"Eat up," Seifer encouraged. "I don't want your pansy ass fainting just when we get started out there."

Wide eyed, Squall turned his focus to the blond. "You're still coming with me?"

"Of course," Seifer said before continuing with his meal. When the brunet seemed put off by it, he elaborated, "A few odd happenings wouldn't change the fact that killing monsters is a hell of a lot more appealing than staying in this town."

"Odd happenings?" Squall bit out incredulously. "Seifer, we had sex. That's a bit more than an odd happening."

"Alright," the ex-knight conceded. "It was a few extremely enjoyable odd happenings."

"Was this all some joke to you?" Squall accused, not understanding how Seifer could be so amused by it all. "I'm not laughing."

"You never laugh," Seifer pointed out. The icy glare he received pushed him to sober up a bit. "Look, it happened. Just let it go. Friends fuck all the time, it's normal."

"So, what? Now we're friends who go around having sex on occasion?"

Seifer shrugged noncommittally. "You make it sound so serious. If you were half as frustrated as I've been the past few weeks, then it'd be obvious why it happened." A short talk with Frank that involved the old man asking if the lucky lady was in his bedroom had cleared a few things up for him. He wasn't lovesick, but he had needed his favorite rival, enough to constitute screwing the lovely young man upon finally seeing him again.

Not replying, Squall jabbed his fork into the omelet and sampled a bit. It was quite good, but he could hardly enjoy it under the circumstances.

"It was just the once," Seifer placated. "I mean, I'm a normal guy, and more would be welcome. But, since you're obviously ready to go insane about it, just forget it happened."

"How the hell can I forget?" Squall hissed. "You don't just forget something like that."

"I'm going to assume you mean it was too good to forget, not the other way around," Seifer commented defensively. "After all you've done, I'm surprised a little sex could throw you off like this," he added in mild scrutiny.

Scowling, Squall resumed his silence, finding Seifer's words cut him down to size. He was acting a bit like a child. Since when did he place so much gravity on the act of sex? Why should it matter?

"That a boy," Seifer said encouragingly as he ruffled damp locks of dark brown hair. "By the way, Rinoa doesn't need to know."

Eyes narrowing, Squall realized he had a whole other mess of trouble to deal with. "Yes, she does," he mumbled as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

Realizing he'd never stamp that do-gooder streak out of Squall, he simply consoled like any good friend, "Cheer up lover boy, you've the whole day to think of a decent excuse."

Squall knocked away the offending hand that reached for his hair again. "I'm not sure I want you as my friend," he declared sulkily.

"Come on, I'm not beyond painting your toe nails. We'll be best friends." Secretly, he wondered just how often he might coax Squall into having sex with him. It'd be nice if they were going to be staying in the middle of nowhere together. Unless they frequented the city, he felt certain he'd need some release.

"And I'm not beyond killing you if even suggest anything like that again," Squall said while standing up. "Let's just go, I need to kill something." The only appreciation he showed for breakfast was when he closed the lid and made to bring it along, silently showing that he intended to eat it later.

Smiling broadly, Seifer stood as well. Whether it was from the morning after receiving a phenomenal fuck or finally having his sparring partner back, he felt light hearted. It was plain to see that Squall was enthused about his company, otherwise the brunet would have refused to let him come that morning.

As Seifer closed the door, Squall asked, "Do you need to take care of anything before we go?"

Considering it for a moment, the blond nodded. "We'll stop by Raijin and Fujin's place real quick," he announced, realizing his friends had no clue where he was and would probably like to know where he was going.

"Land lord," Squall muttered in reminder. The apartment was one of several in the building.

"Naw," Seifer refuted as they walked away. "I own this place." He waved a gesturing hand to imply the entire building. He smirked at the slight faltering of steps in his shorter counterpart.

Surprised, Squall chose not to ask any further. Though seeming reckless, Seifer had everything under control, which was perhaps a quality no one ever saw in the ex-knight. He felt as though he had a few things to learn about his former rival, which would probably happen in the course of their new friendship. They were already off to a rocky start, but things had never gone smoothly between them.

Fin

A/N: I just figured that if Squall and Seifer were ever to become friends, they'd do so in the oddest of ways and never be a normal pair of friends. Anyway, I figure the last half has more over looked errors than usual, which I'll fix whenever. Honestly, the whole thing was neither here nor there, just a short story I felt I needed to clear out of my head to gain better focus. The ending wasn't rushed, but it certainly wasn't definitive. I was sort of hoping to toy with having nothing be clear cut, so basically they're friends without real justification and they slept together without any real justification… there was no figuring out the reasons or emotions, just finding what they wanted.


End file.
